


Upside

by checkthemargins



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 14:19:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkthemargins/pseuds/checkthemargins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that Harry <i>likes</i> that Louis's sick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upside

**Author's Note:**

> This is just fever sex porn. And honestly it's probably more of a tease than anything else. I apologize in advance!

**Upside**

 

It's not that Harry _likes_ seeing Louis sick. Because he doesn't. And Louis _is_ sick, has the worst case of strep throat the modern world has ever seen and a fever that just won't go down and it's not that Harry likes it. Of course he doesn't. It's just.

He knees his way onto the hotel bed carefully, two of Louis's huge antibiotic pills and a fresh glass of juice in hand. Louis's in the middle of the bed, has barely slept at all in the last two days, constantly moving under the throes of the fever. He's sweaty and _burning_ , his cheeks a hectic red, hair wet around the hairline, fringe sticking sweaty to his forehead. He's breathing in these shallow little breaths because it hurts to breathe deeply and his eyes are fever-bright, his skin _so hot_. Harry bites his lip.

"Hey, Lou," he murmurs, and Louis looks up at him, and then at the pills in his hand and makes this awful wretched little _whimper_. Harry sets the glass of juice down on the bedside table so he can cup Louis's burning cheek, thumb gently over his Adam's apple, over his wrecked throat. "I know, babe, I'm sorry. Last ones today, yeah?"

Louis looks at him reproachfully, but lifts his arm shakily so Harry can help him sit up. Harry slides in behind him, settles Louis between his legs. Louis's this soft little ball of fire through Harry's t-shirt. Louis shivers, turns to tuck his face into Harry's neck for a second. Harry cards his fingers through sweat-damp hair and when Louis lifts his head again Harry dips in for a careful kiss. Louis grips Harry's thighs, arches his neck a bit, blinks up at Harry with huge blue eyes once their mouths break apart.

It's just that Louis's so very _vulnerable_ right now, and his big blue eyes and sweaty skin and fever-red little body and the way he's looking up at Harry with so much trust makes Harry just want to _wreck_ him, to fuck him up, to peel him open piece by piece until Louis's just this mass of raw, frayed nerve endings and the only thing in his brain is Harry.

"Here," Harry says, dropping the pills into Louis's palm and reaching for the juice again. "Just one at a time."

"Rather do 'em both at once," Louis croaks. His voice is awful, the sound a bruise would make, Harry thinks. Harry winces, but hands over the other pill too.

"You sure?"

Louis takes the juice, too. His hands are shaking just a little. Harry knows he's exhausted, knows he's just barely slept. He looks unhappily at the huge capsules, pops them into his mouth, squeezes his eyes closed and takes a drink. The sound that rips out of his throat is _heart-wrenching_ , and Harry makes a quiet, sympathetic noise and kisses his temple, takes the juice back from him and gently, gently strokes the pads of his fingers over Louis's throat. Louis's left gasping and trembling in pain once he's swallowed them both down.

"Hey, sweetheart," says Harry.

" _Nn_ ," says Louis, and then he coughs horribly and turns his face into Harry's neck. He put up one hell of a fight at the beginning about being coddled, but he's feeling so miserable now and doesn't want to be alone and Harry's not sure he could leave his side for long anyway. He's never seen Louis like this before, burning up from the inside and in enough physical pain for his eyes to fill with tears.

After a few minutes, once Louis's breathing eases a bit, Harry slides out from behind him and lowers him gently down again, and Louis blinks up at him sleepily, reaches up to pat at Harry's chest gratefully. "Thanks Hazza," he murmurs.

Harry feels like the most horrible person ever, because he's so fucking hard it _hurts_. "'Course babe. Always."

He cards his fingers through Louis's hair until Louis falls asleep, and then goes into the bathroom and wanks furiously to the thought of Louis's sweaty, fever-hot bod, of his soft rough breathing and his wrecked throat gasping Harry's name and those big, trusting blue eyes on him. He comes into his own hand with a rough moan.

 

 

Louis's feeling a bit better in the morning, and wants to shower. He's wobbly-legged and still has a fever high enough that Harry's worried they're going to have to take him to hospital, but he's talking a bit more and Harry guiltily loves how clingy Louis is right now, in a way he hasn't been in over a year now. He eases Louis down onto the closed lid of the toilet and turns the shower on, and then strips out of his own pyjama bottoms and boxers before helping Louis out of the ratty t-shirt of Harry's and sweats he's been wearing for the past three days.

The shower is a special kind of torture, but Harry manages to make it without fucking him up against the sliding door so he counts it as a win. It saps the small reserve of energy Louis found, though. He manages to slide on a pair of white briefs and then tumbles into bed and is asleep in seconds. Harry kisses his damp hair and his neck, the apple of his cheek, and tucks him in. He smells better now, at least, clean boy and fruity shampoo instead of sweat and three days without washing. Harry flips the bedside lamp off and closes the drapes and leaves Louis to his nap.

He pushes back into the bedroom of the suite about an hour later, and what little strength Harry's managed to build back up toward being a decent human being flies out the metaphorical window.

Louis's still asleep, but he's _dreaming_ , and what he's dreaming about leaves little to the imagination with the way he's writhing, duvet and sheets kicked down to the foot of the bed, tangled up in his legs, his back arching off the bed, his thighs opening, his breathing rough and heavy. He's sweaty and his cheeks are bright red when Harry turns the bedside lamp on and his hair is sticking to his forehead and his eyes are clenched shut and he's so hard in briefs, one hand low on his stomach, fingers curling in to press divots into his belly.

Harry's at the foot of the bed without realizing he even started moving. Louis makes a hot, _hot_ sound in his throat and wakes up with a startled gasp, his eyes huge. He's flushing all the way down his chest and he moans weakly when his eyes fall on Harry.

" _Hazza_ ," he all but sobs, and Harry crawls up onto the bed between Louis's spread legs, his mouth painfully dry. His hand finds Louis's thigh, slides in the sweat there. He thumbs along the inside and Louis _mewls_ , reaching for him.

"Hey," says Harry. His throat feels sort of tight. "Lou, hey, you all right?" Louis's tongue snakes out across his chapped lips. His hands clench at Harry's shoulders. He's still just in low-slung pyjama bottoms and his dick is already fattening up. He can feel Louis's between them, pressing up into his stomach when he leans in to kiss Louis' gently. "Sweetheart?"

"Want," Louis says roughly. He scrubs at Harry's shoulders. "Want you. Had a. Had a dream. Just. Feel so—"

Harry bites his lip, finds his mouth suddenly at Louis's neck and kisses him there, feels his eyes roll back into his head at the sound Louis makes, the way he rolls his hips up again. "You're ill, Lou," he murmurs, voice thick. He's bracing himself above Louis with one arm by Louis's head, and the other is skittering up and down Louis's side. He sweeps his fingertips over one of Louis's nipples, catches Louis's groan against his lips. "Are you sure? Your fever..."

Louis shakes his head a bit wildly, makes a sound like he's _dying_ and tugs on Harry's hair. "Sure. I'm sure. God, Harry, just. Just let me suck you."

Harry closes his eyes, feels his mouth drop open, feels his dick throb needily. " _Louis_."

Louis's eyes look wet and his lips are pink and his skin is so, so hot. "Please?"

"You have strep throat," Harry argues, but it lacks almost all conviction and he's already pushing his pyjama bottoms off. "Will hurt you."

"Won't," Louis croaks, and Harry's way too far gone because somehow that sound is impossibly sexy. "Might help."

Harry laughs, kisses the smirk that curls Louis's lips. He kicks his pyjamas off the foot of the bed and Louis _shudders_ , his whole body in on it, his bleary eyes locked on Harry's cock when Harry sits up between his legs. Louis reaches for his hips, digs his fingers in a bit. Harry knees his way up the bed, until he's straddling Louis's chest. He can feel the heat radiating off him, even his arms so hot on Louis's side, and for a second Harry's nearly gutted by the thought of how _hot_ Louis must be inside. He has to force his eyes to open again.

"Lou. You. You sure?"

Louis just nods and lifts his head, grips Harry around the base of his cock and laps kittenishly at the head before digging his tongue into the slit and Harry curls forward. God, he wants to just wreck Louis, bare him wide open. Louis moans like all he could ever want is Harry cock in his mouth and parts his lips around the head, pulls him in. It's _so hot_ , burning inside Louis's mouth and he can feel a pulse of precome spill onto Louis's tongue. His balls feel full and heavy and Louis's knuckles are knocking against them.

Louis's good at this, really fucking good at giving head but he's sick and Harry doesn't expect the way his mouth keeps going down, down, until his sore, bruised throat is fluttering around the head of Harry's dick. Harry slams his free hand into the wall, palm smacking hard into ugly wallpaper. Louis blinks up at him with tears on his eyelashes and _swallows_ , something he's been doing as little as possible of for _days_. Harry's hips rock forward and Louis makes a weak, pained and raw little sound that makes Harry's blood thrum.

"S'okay," Harry murmurs, his voice very low. He cradles the back of Louis's head in his hand and urges him down a bit more, Louis's throat contracting around him, so hot it hurts. Louis stays there, eyes wide open and feverish on Harry for a long few moments before he slowly pulls back, his fingers pressing in against Harry's taint. He pulls off slow, lewd, mouth wet enough that Harry's dick is shiny with it.

"Want. Want you to—"

"Shh," Harry soothes, cheeks burning, all the blood in his body surging between his legs right now and the fact that he _shouldn't_ , that Louis is _ill_ doesn't even phase him a little bit. He grips his dick again, feeds it back to Louis slowly. "Know what you need, love. Know what you want."

Louis seems to go utterly boneless at that, one hand on Harry's hip and one still teasing at the base of Harry's cock and Harry fucks his mouth in these slow, _deep_ thrusts that drag rough moans out of Louis's throat that vibrate all the way up Harry's body. It feels suffocatingly thick in the room. He's overheated, tugging at Louis's hair the way he knows Louis likes it. Before the strep got really bad Louis'd said that it felt like his throat was chapped, like it was torn up a bit and cracking, overly-dry and kind of pounding. Harry made him a lot of tea to help. Somehow he has a feeling this isn't going to be quite as soothing.

Louis hollows his cheeks, flattens his tongue against the underside of Harry's cock, swallows around him again and again until he makes himself cry, palms his hand up Harry's side to swipe his thumb at the ticklish skin under Harry's arm and Harry groans, fucks into his mouth again and again, and all it takes is one last glimpse of Louis's big, wet blue eyes before he's clenching his own shut tight. His mouth drops open in a long, guttural moan and he pulls out just enough and _comes_ , so hard it makes stars burst behind his eyelids, makes his whole body tremble with the effort of staying upright.

He pulls out carefully and immediately folds himself in half to kiss Louis, fingers loosening in Louis's hair. He rubs his scalp apologetically, coaxes Louis's tongue into his mouth and tastes himself, soft suction and heat. When he pulls back, knees back on either side of Louis's hips now, Louis looks up at him, mouth a mess and come on his lips. "Fuck, Lou," Harry breathes.

"Haz," says Louis, and his voice was fucked up before but now it's an absolute _wreck_ from the dicking Harry just gave his throat and it's so hot that Harry palms himself, whimpers a bit at the oversensitive tug in his balls. He trails his fingers down Louis's sides and Louis gasps, like his whole body is one giant erogenous zone. Harry nudges Louis's knees apart and shifts further down the bed until he's eye level with Louis's crotch. The white briefs are nearly translucent from precome and Louis's so hard it looks painful. His hand moves weakly to Harry's hair, fingers threading into sweat-damp curls. His skin is shiny with sweat and Harry nuzzles at his inner thigh, presses a soothing kiss there when Louis _whines_.

"Got you," he promises, and flickers his eyes up to Louis's face as he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to Louis's dick through his underwear. Louis cries out, cuts off on a sob of pleasure when it hurts his throat, hiccups roughly and tugs gingerly on Harry's hair. Harry laps further down, presses his nose to Louis's balls through soft cotton, laves his tongue over first one and then the other until the material is damp and Louis's writhing, breathing in rough little sobs that sound like they hurt.

"Harry," Louis pleads, voice breaking. "Need—"

"Can come whenever you want, babe," Harry tells him, mouth still right there. He kisses his way up the v of muscle inside Louis's hips and settles his palm between Louis's legs, rubs him slowly. "Get you all messy, yeah?"

Louis clenches his eyes shut and arches his back, panting. He rolls his hips up into Harry's hand, but Harry pins his hips down, rests his cheek on Louis's belly and palms his dick again and again. Louis's tugging weakly at his hair and mumbling incoherently. His skin is _so hot_. Harry pushes the waistband of Louis's briefs over the head of his cock, scrapes elastic over the tip and Louis shoots off like a fucking rocket, comes so hard his entire body locks up and Harry watches his dick twitch and jerk and watches come soak through his briefs and it's so fucking hot and Harry doesn't even know _why_. Louis's lovely thighs are tense and shaky and his arse is up off the bed just a little. Harry turns his head, moans into the soft of Louis's stomach, nips at the rim of his navel.

Louis's catching his breath, fingers shaky in Harry's hair. Harry licks his way back up his torso and then sits up, shifts so that he's not in the cage of Louis's legs anymore. Louis's cheeks are still fever-flushed and his eyes even hazier than they were before and he's touching himself, one hand on his chest, tugging at his nipples and the other down low on his abdomen.

"Okay?" Harry asks him, his voice rough, more of a growl than anything else. Louis nods, arches his back again.

"Need—"

"I know," Harry murmurs, leans in to kiss his burning forehead and Louis chokes, reaches up to grip Harry's hips. Harry presses a kiss to Louis's bruised, bitten mouth and curls his fingers into the waistband of Louis's briefs and tugs them down. "Know what you need."

Louis looks up at him, hazy, mouth wet, eyes big, skin sheened in sweat and a flush on his cheeks and everything about him so very pretty. He tilts his hips and cocks his head and threads his fingers into Harry's curls, and Harry sighs, kisses his cheek, grinds down into him. It's not that he _likes_ seeing Louis sick. It's just, if there's gonna be an upside--and there _needs_ to be an upside--this is most definitely it.


End file.
